


In Some Sacred Place

by ace (alia_castiella)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, derek can slow dance, how do i italicize things in the summary section?, not quite a songfic, stiles can shake it, sugary sweet feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alia_castiella/pseuds/ace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh shit," thinks Stiles, "this is it. He's finally going to rip my throat out with his teeth." But instead of mauling Stiles, Derek is lacing their fingers together, and his other hand is sliding around Stiles' waist to rest on the small of his back. Stiles automatically raises his free hand to Derek's shoulder, and that's when it hits him.</p><p>"Is this... are we... Derek, are you dancing with me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Some Sacred Place

_**Note:** You get **all** the songs! The title is from "Delicate" by Damien Rice. And please come [visit me on tumblr](http://alia-castiella.tumblr.com).  <3, Ace_

 

**In Some Sacred Place**

It’s the last day of summer and the pack is in the woods. The evening light is golden, streaking sideways through the canopy of trees, and Stiles is leaning against the base of a ponderosa pine, watching the wolves run and climb and leap from shadow to sunbeam and back again. He's not sure exactly why he has to be at these training sessions, but Derek has made it clear that his presence is mandatory, and things have been sort of okay between them lately. Stiles isn't about to rock that particular boat.

He digs his iPod out of the pocket of his jeans and scrolls to a playlist unsubtly entitled _Big Bad_. The Civil Wars' ["Poison & Wine"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-6EwdDiopQ) begins to play. There's enough distance between his spot and the clearing where the pack is training that he can't hear all of what's being said, but he can see that Derek is leading his betas in some sort of a sparring exercise. Every once in a while, the alpha will throw a steely glance in Stiles' direction. It doesn't seem like anything to worry about until Stiles notices the flash of red that accompanies them. Still, he shrugs it off.

Ten minutes later, Damien Rice is strumming the opening chords of ["Delicate"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzNzEMyR-U4) in his ears and Derek is storming over to Stiles, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him away from the clearing and into a shady copse of trees. _Oh shit_ , thinks Stiles, _this is it. He's finally going to rip my throat out with his teeth._ But instead of mauling Stiles, Derek is lacing their fingers together, and his other hand is sliding around Stiles' waist to rest on the small of his back. Stiles automatically raises his free hand to Derek's shoulder, and that's when it hits him.

"Is this... are we... Derek, are you _dancing_ with me?"

"This song," Derek grumbles into the suddenly-warm skin of Stiles’ left temple. (And _of course_ Derek can hear his iPod. Stiles makes a mental note to skip Amanda Seyfried's cover of ["Lil' Red Riding Hood"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-NKbxZ983I) when he gets to it.) "This song reminds me of you."

"Oh." Stiles doesn't know what else to say to that, so he just keeps dancing.

The song changes — it's Katie Costello's ["Stranger"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mf9GJPeOJFw) now — and still they dance, breaths and pulses syncing to the gentle rhythm of the song. Derek, surprisingly, is a natural at this slow-dancing thing, and Stiles is reminded of how his mom and dad used to sway and spin in their living room, [Berlin](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DARX9nzNE3E) drifting through the stereo speakers and a footie-pajama-clad Stiles spying on them from his spot at the top of the stairs.

The thought evokes a vague rush of sadness, and something in his scent (or maybe his heartbeat) must give him away, because now Derek is pulling back to frown at him, mistaking the look on his face for something else — fear, perhaps, or discomfort — and he's wrong, he's _so_ wrong. Stiles tightens his grip on Derek's shoulder and meets his gaze. "My parents used to dance like this," he explains, his voice cracking a little, and now Derek understands. He draws Stiles back in close and tucks his face into his neck, breathes deep.

Stiles is slowly realizing that he's never felt as safe as he does in this moment, and it doesn't make sense, because nothing about Derek is _safe._ He doesn't have time to analyze it, though, because the song is over and Derek is pulling away, clearing his throat and scowling in the general direction of his shoes. "I should go," he says. "The Betas will have noticed I'm gone by now. They'll wonder where I am." And Stiles is suddenly cold in all the places he was warm before. He frowns.

"You don't want them to know?" 

Derek looks up now, sees the hurt and uncertainty on Stiles' face. He crowds back into his space and spans a hand over the side of his neck, brushing a thumb along Stiles' cheekbone.  "That's not... this..." Derek sighs and tries again. "Stiles, I want this. I do. But they'll have questions, and I don't think we have answers yet."

"You want this?" Stiles gazes up at him, eyes wide.

" _Yes_."

"So do I."

 


End file.
